It's National Poetry Day. A poem I wrote lying in bed listening to the owls very late one night. I used to live in a 16th century court house. My bedroom was the prison cell where people would be kept overnight before court. As you can see there were still metal bars with spikes on the window.
Terweet and hawwl, the time is now
No different really to when calling long ago
The owls do cry and do hoot through the sky
Wings shudder and fluff in readiness to fly
I am there back then but here at the same time
I sense the same feelings and cold air, not just mine
Who sat here, or lay, sobering up, maybe sobbing
To court the next day perhaps sentenced to flogging
I am here with them, no time has really passed
I feel it here and now, back then, present, future and past
It's all the same, so are we, energy swirling here and there
No difference, all as one, just being, laying bare
Owls now quiet, have swooped away into the night
I hear one, far away and dream of time as bird flight...